


And All That I Can Hear Is One

by auroreanrave



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Imprinting, M/M, Obliviousness, Robot Feels, Robot Sex, Sex Robots, Sex Work, Slow Build, Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bot just keeps staring at Rudy. He's convinced it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All That I Can Hear Is One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).
  * Inspired by [this prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33542) by Saucery. 



> Inspired by a post by the very fantastic Saucery about Rudy and a sexbot (which you can find above). Done with the hugest amount of respect, love and admiration for Saucery's work.
> 
> Title comes from the Sky Ferreira song, 'One', which is all about feeling robotic and wanting to feel human.

The bot just keeps staring at Rudy. He's convinced it is.

The shipment had come in from one of the Miushi brothers - Korean-American, third generation, some of the best 'bot part smugglers in the city - and amongst the clattering collection of parts and scrap metal and blinking lights that had once been the hearts of well... things that didn't really have parts but still.

He finds the bot in a pile of rubbish. It's muscular and tanned, skin almost exactly like the real thing but not quite. He's missing a leg and half of his right forearm, the length of his arm severed neatly in half as if a chef calmly decided to slice down and separate the two halves.

Rudy hooks the bot up to a charger, working through several weeks worth of dust and internal hard drive clutter to get it back and working. The eyes, the left one a little cracked with the move, probably, blink open, as green as the open meadows of Rudy's childhood. Well, imagined childhood.

"You alright there, mate?"

The bot looks around Rudy's lab silently, mouth slightly open as his neural capacity reboots and he remembers to learn how to speak. The bot is handsome, very handsome. His chest is ripped, strong and muscular and judging off the length of the legs he's way taller than Rudy is used to.

Not that he is, um, used to men. Well, not much. In that way. He's very much equal opportunities in that department. Has been ever since college.

"Where... where am I?" The bot's voice is a low rumble. He's not even trying to get to his feet. His very large feet. "This is not the showroom."

And it's then that it hits Rudy - he's a sexbot.

Wow.

Rudy needs a cold shower after that realisation.

* * *

The bot sits amiably on the desk, all but naked if not for the pair of pants Rudy managed to salvage from the piles of miscellania. His hands keep wandering over to trinkets on the workspace, playing with them innocently. His memory has been reset, somewhat.

"What happened to you?"

The bot blinks a little and Rudy can see the glimmer of blue along his left temple. He's trying to recall. "I... am not able to recall. I was the previous possession of a Jonathan and Marissa Swift. Maybe you will be able to track them down."

"What you think they threw you out?"

The bot nods, impassive. "I was an older model and Mrs Swift wanted an upgraded model who could better... deal with her physical and sexual needs."

"Christ, I'm sorry."

"Are you going to take me away?"

"No! No, no, no, I... I don't get rid of anyone. Alright? One big thing with me: you're safe. Alright? I like bots - well, not in that way, well, sometimes, alright - so I don't. I won't. You know. Throw you away. You can stay here as long as you want."

The bot offers a smile, big and sincere, and wow. Rudy has to steady himself against the workbench behind him because the bot? Is one of the hottest people he's ever seen. How anyone could throw him away is beyond Rudy's reasoning. If he was Rudy's, he wouldn't leave his bed, let alone -

The thought of throwing a bot away, big eyes all trusting and sweet right up until the last moment, sends a surge of nausea and disgust right to Rudy's stomach, so he focuses his attention on the bot.

"Do you have a name?"

"I assumed many names under Mrs Swift's command. Ricardo, Marcus, Sebastian, Porter, Nathan... I did not like any of them."

Rudy frowns a little. "You were able to dislike the names?"

The bot nods. "I feel that may have been part of the reason for my discharge from the Swift household."

"That's fine, just you know," Rudy gesticulates wildly, "pick your own name. One you like. Just... stay here, okay? Aside from the fact you can't walk and it was murder on my back lifting you onto there, until I get hold of a new leg, I'd much prefer it if you - "

The bot smirks. "Stay where you can see me? Of course. I wish to power down to conserve my energy resources while I am still repairing internally. Is this agreeable?"

"Uh, yeah, of course. Just... go ahead. Grab forty winks." The bot lays down carefully on the workspace, nudging Rudy's trinkets out of the way to the side, and then winks at Rudy, very carefully before closing his eyes.

Rudy stares there, eyes wide behind his eyeglasses, as the smooth, muscular chest stops its imitation of human breathing and falls peacefully silent. He is so screwed.

 

* * *

The bot decides that Rudy is his favourite thing in the whole world. From when he walks in in the morning, the bot awakens and begins to talk and ask Rudy questions and it's nice, actually. Rudy gets pretty lonely in his lab sometimes and so it's nice to have the background sounds of someone moving around and talking, even if the bot spends a lot of the time going through a spare laptop of Rudy's and asking about movies and music and Wikipedia.

Rudy tries not to be ashamed when Rudy stumbles across a wedge of porn on the laptop - he's a sexbot for God's sake, he's more than seen the things the people in the videos are doing - but he still blushes under the bot's level gaze.

Dorian and John come by after a week or two. There's been a spate of kidnappings in downtown apartments and copycat ones in the slums further north. Rudy assembles a distress tracker for them so that they can start to triangulate just when the victims are exactly taken and where they end up when they cross each other's paths.

The bot is in the background, headphones on (his wireless media player in his ears wasn't working, it needed an obscure part from Sarasota) as it watches music on the laptop. Dorian looks over briefly.

"Is that a sexbot listening to music?"

John looks over, eyes widening. "Shit, Rudy, what the hell are you thinking? If Maldonado found out you'd stolen some 'bot and - "

"I didn't steal him. Alright? I took a... shipment of stuff and he was amongst it. Robotic flotsam if you will, and I won't kill him or destroy him, alright? He's harmless. Actually a bit of a godsend in the lab, actually. Keeps me company without making any noise."

John smirks at Rudy's last words, and Rudy flushes crimson, desk chair skittering back. "Not like that! He's a good lab partner and - oh God just - "

"It's fine, John," Dorian says smoothly, "I can read Rudy's vitals and he has no biochemical attraction to the 'bot. Any relationship is purely platonic."

John snorts, then nods, turning serious. "Fine. But keep that thing out of sight, alright? Maldonado's tricky at the best of times. She might not take lightly to the idea of you keeping a sexbot as your assistant."

"Of course. Absolutely." Rudy nods furiously. After a long beat, John heads for the exit, tracker in hand. Dorian follows a second later, eyes on Rudy for longer than necessary.

The bot turns to Rudy, removing his headphones. He refuses to wear a shirt unless Rudy begs him to, and the sight of those rippling muscles is enough to make Rudy go a little weak at the knees. "Rudy. Is there something wrong?"

"No," Rudy says, frown smoothing out into a shadow of a smile, "now let's find you some decent music."

* * *

 

The 'bot doesn't decide on a name right away, no matter how many times Rudy brings up suggestions inbetween bouts of John and Dorian's investigation needing his services. The 'bot shakes his head solemnly each time Rudy proffers a name, and goes back to watching loops of videos and listening to entire albums in the time it takes Rudy to make a cup of coffee.

One time, Rudy asks him why he's doing it. The bot smiles at him. "I wish to learn. I was never... permitted to use the computers at the Swift residence. If you wish for me to cease, I will - "

"No, no! Go ahead, knock yourself out - well, not literally because rebooting you would be a bugger and a half after all the work in bringing your brain up to speed." Rudy hurries back to his work.

The bot announces, twenty minutes and three albums later, that he wishes to have a diagnostic run, and immediately removes his shirt. Rudy gulps, willing his fingers to stay as still as possible as his fingers skim over smooth skin and hard muscle.

He _hates_ droids.

* * *

 

One day Dorian comes to him on his own in his lunch hour. The bot is ensonced in old pre-web adaptations of Shakespeare plays. Dorian is holding a plastic baggie full of bits and pieces in one hand.

"I was hoping to ask you for a favour."

"Of course. Something with a case?"

"Of sorts. John and I have been investigating the attempted murder of an industralist. His young daughter, Madeline, her pet was broken during the home invasion. I was hoping that you might be able to restore it to her as a comfort."

Rudy looked up, accepting the bag of pieces from Dorian. A crystal eye blinked at him lazily. "Wow, Dorian. Looks like you've got a bigger heart than I thought." Rudy placed the bag on the worktop.

"I do not actually possess a heart, rather a generator that as a side function possesses the ability to manufacture a steady beat that mimicks the sound of the human resting heartbeat quite effectively. However, I am aware of your sentiment, so... thank you."

"Right, give me about an hour and I'll have it up and running. Shouldn't be too much trouble."

Dorian smiled, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you, Rudy." He departed as Rudy turned back to the worktop, poured the contents of the plastic bag onto the worktop and began to survey the damage.

It turned out that a stray bullet had struck the creature - it had turned out to be a bird - during the fracas and once Rudy had assembled the core of the bird once more, he had reassembled it, soldered everything back together, restored any memory glitches and even given the bird an upgrade.

Dorian returned, with both John and a small bag of cupcakes which Rudy accepted in lieu of payment or, well, recognition, really. After the pair had gone, bird 'sleeping' peacefully in Dorian's pocket, Rudy had turned to find the bot looking at him, green eyes wide and penetrating.

"Why did you do that?"

"What? Fix the bird? Because it's the right thing to do? Plus she's a little girl going through a hard time right now. If I can fix something and save something, I will. Because she needs every bit of comfort right now." The bot nodded after a beat and then returned to the laptop, his gaze flicking from Rudy to the screen.

Rudy stared at the broad expanse of his back for several moments, before cramming a vanilla buttercream cupcake the size of his fist into his mouth.

* * *

 

One evening, Rudy is all set to head home for the evening - his salary might not be a lot but it's good and his apartment is home after all - when he sees the bot stood by the workspace, the shirt Rudy stole from one of the retired lockers by his lab on his frame.

"You okay?"

The bot is silent for a moment, before answering, "Your primary residence is not this facility, correct?"

"Uh, yeah. The amount of time I spend in here might suggest otherwise but - "

"May I accompany you to your primary residence?" The bot's request is simple, levelly met, but it still takes Rudy aback somewhat.

"Oh. Um. Alright. Yeah, sure, I mean... yeah it'll stop me worrying that someone's going to come down in the night when I'm not here and... yeah. Not that you have to stay or anything."

Rudy hands the bot a pilfered jacket and a pair of old Converse and soon the bot is walking out the back way with a placating hand on the base of the bot's spine. Outside, the sun is just beginning to set and Rudy stops as the bot stops to take in the sight. He's never seen a bot so entranced. It's weird, actually.

"It is so... remarkable." The bot manages, looking down at Rudy. Rudy doesn't say anything and hails a cab.

The bot is just as quiet and entranced at Rudy's apartment. He takes a long walk around every room like a nervous puppy at a new home, and seems quite entertained with the cutlery in Rudy's kitchen. Rudy irrationally wishes he could have cleaned up a bit - there are months of old magazines from the few publishers still out there piled on the floor besides the couch, and there's more takeout menus that what he knows what to do with.

"I like it here." The bot smiles amiably. "It is extremely comfortable."

Rudy smiles back. "Well I can set you up a recharging pod in the living room if you want. Should be simple enough. That is if you want to stay here."

The bot actually grins. "I would like that very much. Thank you."

They spend the rest of the evening watching movies on Rudy's wall-mounted screen. The bot presses close to him and laughs at the jokes and even tells one of his own - apparently he's been researching humour. The bot is warm and the last thing Rudy remembers is falling asleep, the bot close and warm.

* * *

 

The next morning Rudy awakens on the couch, a blanket around him, and when he pushes himself onto an elbow, he can see the bot in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

The bot looks up, as if on cue, and smiles warmly at Rudy. "Good morning, Rudy. I am preparing breakfast. I hope you slept well."

Rudy nods, blinks, and watches his bot - the bot, the bot, he repeats internally - putter around the kitchen as warm sunlight filters through the windows.

* * *

 

The shirtless thing still keeps on happening. Every day, at least four times a day, the bot will ask for diagnostics and checks and scans, and before Rudy gets the chance to tell him that he doesn't need them, the bot is all shirtless and... and muscle-y. Rudy is gonna get a complex if he keeps staring like that.

It's not as if the bot's a hypochondriac. Oh, no, he seems fine to run errands with John or go out to the store with Rudy. He just keeps asking for diagnostics. Which he doesn't need.

It all comes to a head one quiet afternoon when Rudy is busy working on a new chemical alloy for John and Dorian and the bot is running through some programs it finds interesting (Rudy isn't sure which ones) when it suddenly announces that he feels a CAT scan would be appropriate to see how his memory units are dealing with the new information.

"Look," Rudy sways, swiveling around to see the bot already stripping out of his shirt (since moving into Rudy's place, the bot's since acquired three more shirts, another set of pants and even underwear), "we don't really need to run all these diagnostics. If it's some faulty wiring that's making you think you need regular scans, then I can - "

And before Rudy can finish his sentence, an explosion blasts him right off his feet, fire channeling from the corridor into the lab and the last thing Rudy recalls is blinding pain and blackness as the wall caves in around him.

* * *

 

Rudy comes to slowly. His mind is pulsing in waves of pain that seems scarlet and vivid and as rich and brightly, starkly harsh as blood. His leg is pinned beneath the rubble of what used to be a wall and Rudy has perhaps never been more scared.

He can sounds from the other side of the rubble - talking and shouting and gunfire and it scares Rudy. He doesn't have a gun. He isn't armed. Rudy just hopes that the bot is alright.

There's a series of gunshots that echo throughout the chamber and Rudy jumps with a start when a large chunk of rubble is forcibly yanked away. He can't see who or what is lifting it in the light, but it immediately takes a bit of pressure off his leg and makes the chamber he's in a little more visible.

Another chunk is hauled aside and the pressure is almost off on Rudy's leg. It's probably fractured, maybe sprained if he's lucky or broken if he's not, but the realisation that it might not be someone friendly on the other side has his heart pounding out of his chest.

Two more hauls of heavy debris aside reveals the man. Well, in this case, bot.

The bot looks down at Rudy, grime marring his ridiculously handsome face, a small chunk at his right temple torn away and showing the blue-purple beneath. He has a gun strapped to his belt and he grins as he extends his hand forward.

"Come with me if you want to live."

Rudy manages a smile, because that was _too cliche_ to even begin with, and accepts the hand gratefully with the strength he can muster.

* * *

 

He ends up spending two days in the hospital for a minor concussion, several deep cuts that needed proper stitching, and a seriously sprained ankle. The explosion that had ripped through the police station had been a result of a separatist group of radical anti-robotic fundamentalists. Three officers were in serious condition, but stable, Captain Maldonado apparently had a wrist sprain from punching a guy in the face to knock him down, Detective Stahl had cuts across her legs and her cheek, and Detective Paul was getting some rest in ICU with a bullet in his side.

Rudy had had the entire story relayed to him first by the bot, then Dorian, and then John in successive order, the latter sporting a sling for a broken arm (thank God it wasn't his shooting and writing hand, John complains) and the other two with tears in their skin patched up.

According to Dorian, the bot had hauled him out of the remains of the lab, fireman style (and Rudy is never going to live that down, ever) and shooting with his gun, taking down two of the fundamentalists and saving a handful of lives.

"I don't know what the hell you've done to that bot, but I'm pretty sure some junkyard sexbot shouldn't be going around shooting people. Even if he is on our side." John said, sipping from a cup of the terrible coffee they served in the hospital.

"Don't look at me. He's... different. He's always learning. Adapting. He just... wanted a different life."

"And you haven't... you know?" John juggled with his coffee cup to make the best and lewdest one-handed motion he could, and Rudy grimaced at him. "No! Christ, no."

Dorian nodded, watching the bot as it stood outside, patiently guarding the door as if Rudy was a witness in a high-profile case, not a technician who couldn't be counted on to having matching socks sometimes and had apparently picked up a former-sexbot bodyguard somewhere along the way. "He is certainly different. Have you been running checks on him?"

"Yeah. He always wants them. At least three times a day he wants me to check his vitals, his operations, everything. But he's never any different. Not in any way I can see."

John and Dorian shared a look, and then, five minutes after further updates about the state of the police department (undergoing renovation and all activity transferred to a nearby precinct for the foreseeable) and an impromptu visit from Stahl, her pretty face all banged to hell and looking like she wanted nothing more than a month in bed, Rudy was left alone with the bot who took the plastic seat by Rudy's bed.

"Why did you... save me?"

The bot looked at Rudy. The signs of welding across his jawline indicated a bullet hole that would always leave a mark. "I saved you because you saved me. I have been... preparing myself for your line of work. For the line of work you have recently begun to find yourself in."

"You mean... the gun? You learnt that for me?"

The bot nodded. "I have been immersing myself in all aspects of appropriate culture. I... the neural capacitors in my mind are perhaps unable to accurately calibrate expectations of emotion. I suspect this was a deliberate design flaw, but... I enjoy your company, Rudy. I wish to keep experiencing it."

The bot's hand leant over and carefully held one of Rudy's, sliding underneath wires and tubes, to press a palm as cool as an autumn breeze against Rudy's own. Rudy slid his fingers into the spaces of the bot's.

"I have also chosen a name. Tom." The bot smiles proudly at Rudy, who nods.

"Hi, Tom."

* * *

 

The days after Rudy gets discharged are interesting to say the least. Rudy has to tell Tom several times that no, he does not need carrying anywhere, and Tom looks a little put out at this fact until they get back to the apartment. Rudy is officially on rest for the foreseeable with the option of getting down to the precinct the department is currently working out of and helping out should any emergencies happen.

Tom proves himself to be the best nurse ever. Every hour, he checks Rudy's fluid intake, makes him soup, orders him pizza when he's desperate for something covered in cheese and carbs, and has the apartment the cleanest it's ever been. Seriously, Rudy can see gleaming, clutter-free surfaces everywhere.

"I invested in some storage devices for your miscellanea." Tom explains when Rudy enquires. Hobbling about, Rudy finds Ikea storage boxes in his closets, tucked underneath the bathroom cabinets and in corners of his room, and clean sheets on his bed.

And Tom just keeps on... smiling at him. And being half naked all the time. It's not even as if he notices. The times when Tom will use the shower, he emerges in the smallest towel Rudy possesses, as if his purpose in life is to torture Rudy with sights of his chest and legs and ass, all warm brown skin and the hints of an arse to die for. It's killing him.

One night, they're sat on the couch, watching an action movie re-run, the remains of Chinese takeout on the coffee table in front of them. Tom gets up during a moment of exposition to take the trash out to the garbage disposal... and comes back, his shirt in hand.

Rudy cannot take it anymore.

"I just - just, why?! You're naked all the time, or half-naked, and it is killing me here! Bloody hell, mate..."

Tom smiles. "You are aroused."

Rudy flushes, all the blood racing to his cheeks. They feel like they're on fire he's blushing so much. "Well, yeah, alright, I mean I'm a normal bloke with normal needs and - "

And he's being cut off by Tom bending down and kissing him, big hand curling around Rudy's neck and pouncing, his body looming over Rudy like a thing of legend. Rudy responds eagerly, all tongue and lips, and soon he's being pushed back into the couch, Tom's body a bough of warmth and strength, muscular arms caging him in on either side.

"But you - you - I don't want - to feel like - "

Tom leans back, barely, his green eyes dark and gleaming. "I do want. I am... choosing. To do so. This act is completely consensual, I assure you. I have been hoping you would take the hints I have been dropping for several weeks now."

Tom's grin, if possible, widens, and then he's back to pouncing on Rudy.

* * *

 

Rudy whimpers when Tom's cock slides into him. He's been stretched and teased and he's aching, his entire body feels all wrung out and ready. Rudy's already come twice tonight - once with Tom's talented tongue around his cock and once with Tom's massive fingers stroking his prostate mercilessly - but he's hard again, cock fat and full against his stomach, wet with precome.

They finally migrated to the bedroom after Tom carried him, stripping items of Rudy's clothing off with ruthless, single-minded efficiency. The bed is soft and clean, fresh sheets courtesy of Tom, as if he knew he might be doing this tonight, and Rudy leans up to kiss Tom.

Tom kisses him back, his hips pistoning forward, his perfectly-designed cock sliding smooth and straight into Rudy's arse, and Rudy has to choke back a scream. He has neighbours after all.

But then all those considerations go out the window when Tom slides out and starts to fuck Rudy, cock striking his prostate with perfect accuracy. Rudy's hands cling to Tom's shoulders, then his waist, then the sheets as Tom continues to fuck into Rudy.

Rudy feels like every nerve in his body is on fire, flushes of sweat springing up across his stomach and chest and brow. Tom seems to be enjoying himself too - he's groaning, moaning, and even if this is something he learned through his hours of online research (turns out humans and 'bots aren't so different, Rudy thinks), it's good and it's real and it hurts in the best possible way, the way that rides the line into pleasure.

Rudy's hands are clenching Tom's ass, fingers gripping into the buttocks, and it's the best, it's amazing, and when Tom hits the right spot again and again and again, spearing Rudy on his cock, stars explode behind Rudy's eyes and he comes, spurting ribbons of come across his belly and thighs and Tom's belly.

Tom looks down, all happy and pleased, as if he's done the best thing ever, when he stiffens himself and moans, his cock going hard and solid in Rudy's arse.

Turns out Tom is one of those really advanced bots then. As realistic as realistic gets, at least in terms of the, uh, messier parts of sex, Rudy realises through an afterglow as heavy as a falling piano and as soft as goose feather.

Tom extricates himself carefully, cleans Rudy and himself up with a hand towel, and curls up beside Rudy on the bed, dragging sheets around them. "Is it alright if I stay?"

Rudy manages to nod, and then he's asleep.

* * *

 

The morning after manages to be simultaneously the best and weirdest morning after Rudy's ever experienced. Tom is gone when Rudy wakes up, but he hears the padding around of footsteps, and unless he's experiencing a very calm home invasion, Tom is up.

Rudy gets his answer later when he heads out to the open planned living room to find Tom is cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Shirtless. Again.

But he doesn't mind, not when Tom sees him and smiles, leaving the bacon cooking in the pan to kiss Rudy, his hands proprietary on Rudy's hips. "Good morning."

"Morning. So... last night."

Tom's face is a calm veneer, but Rudy sees a flash of something in the eyes - worry, panic, anxiety - and God, Rudy is in deep if he's caring this much.

"Yes?"

Rudy smiles. "It was nice."

Tom nods, pleasant and smiling. "It was. My sensors indicated you achieved an above satisfactory orgasm and your cortisone levels have been considerably lower. I enjoyed myself also. It - it was pleasurable. If I can experience true pleasure."

Rudy thinks of MRI scans and blooming colours and Dorian's smile as he tucks into Tom's breakfast - scrambled eggs and toast and bacon and Tom just watches him eat, all proud and intent - and finally something clicks into Rudy's head.

* * *

 

Rudy drags Dorian down to his lab, Tom on Rudy's heels, and John on Dorian's, and has him sit down for an MRI scan. He has all of Tom's saved and he brings them up as a series of images, concurrently placed on top of another as a process of time, like flicking through a book.

When it's all over, John turns to Rudy. "Just what the hell is this all about?"

"Look look look - I've been seeing the same things happen again and again on these scans. Tom kept asking for them, and I thought he just being overcautious, and he was, but maybe deep down he was trying to tell me something. Subconsciously, I mean."

John snorts. "You named the puppy. Of course you did."

Rudy ignores him, grabbing his tablet and bringing up the images as a projected hologram. Slowly the images begin to pile on top of each other. It's beautiful, small explosions of colour appearing across the angular gyrus, the fusiform cortex, the anterior cingulate, like a painting appearing before their eyes.

"The brain is activating these parts on their own, through their own experiences, through prolonged, significant experiences and enduring constants that allow the development and activation of these areas in emotion."

Rudy brings up Dorian's MRI - and it's nearly the same, the same patches springing up amidst Dorian's patches of radiant brain pattern colour.

"You love him, don't you?" Tom asks, leaning against a wall, muscular arms crossed and watching. Serene. Rudy wants to kiss him right now. Tom's talking to Dorian.

Dorian smiles that same secret smile. "It's not exactly a secret. I'm surprised you hadn't worked it out until now, Doctor Lom."

Rudy chips in, to John. "And you?"

John blushes furiously, looking determinedly at his shoes, until he finally manages, "Yeah, alright. It didn't - I didn't plan it alright? It just happened." Dorian slips his hand into John's and squeezes. John squeezes back, smiling for the first time in a long while.

"Don't you see? These parts of the mind are lighting up on their own, developing and - and - they're developing true connections, true emotions." Tom steps forward, a hand warm on Rudy's waist.

"They're developing souls, John." Rudy's eyes are wide and clear, the thrill of discovery and something stronger and elemental racing through his veins like a triple shot of espresso only more powerful. "The droids are developing _souls_."

* * *

 

The discovery goes nationwide, then global. More stories start to come in from across the globe - droid couples, 'bots becoming protective over children, all kinds of things. It doesn't affect every android, not by a long shot, but it's a ripple in the water, a wave that comes in ebbs and lows.

The day after the news that robots can develop souls, can attain the highest echelons of humanity, Captain Maldonado calls Rudy into her office. A file sits on her desk, open, Rudy's work ID picture and a security shot of Tom on top of the paperwork.

"It seems this scientific expedition proved to be... useful, Doctor Lom." Maldonado's eyes are cool and steady and Rudy resists the urge to shiver under her gaze.

"I, um - yes? There's a lot - yes. I, yeah. How long have - ?"

"Well the fact he pulled you out of the wreckage of our old station was a bit of a clue. But I'd known for a while. He helped keep you focused, so it seems."

"So you're not going to, you know - ?"

Maldonado leans forward in her chair. Her desk, along with most of the old station, is under heavy repairs, so she's in a former utility closet, but still, she's commanding as hell even so. "What could I do if I wanted to? Destroy him? Maybe, but you'd just rebuild him. As long as he stays in your lab and you don't start building more strays..."

Rudy grins, and he thinks Maldondo might do too, briefly and thinly. "Thank you, ma'am. I mean, Captain."

"Don't let it get around. I have a reputation to uphold after all."

* * *

 

Tom's waiting in the lab where Rudy left him, tinkering on Rudy's laptop. He lights up when he sees Rudy.

"What happened?"

"She... gave you her blessing? I think? Stay in the lab and behave, I think was the general gist of it. You're not going off to the scrapyard anyway."

Tom grins, slow and warm, his impossibly strong arms reeling around Rudy's waist and pulling him into the circle of his embrace. "You'd just rebuild me if she did."

"She said the same thing, weirdly enough."

"So, what now?"

"Work. Home. Life, I guess." Tom's thumb is rubbing a slow circle into the gap where Rudy's sweater vest has ridden up, flesh against flesh as it were. It's very distracting, as are thoughts of what he and Tom could get up to on the flat-top workspaces of his lab.

"I'm glad. That you want me." Tom looks up at Rudy through his lashes. Rudy's heart feels like it's caught in a vice, because this is not how he imagined his life, but it is _so much better_.

"You professed your growing attraction, affection, and love for me through shirtlessness and MRI scans. Of course I want you. More than anything."

"You did take a while to put all those things together." Tom's eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth is a sweet press to Rudy's and the world is going a million miles an hour around them, but to Rudy, Tom feels as good as human - _better_ even - and he couldn't be happier.


End file.
